


Caring

by tveckling



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Tybalt, Established Relationship, M/M, Mercutio is having a Bad Day, Tybalt is not used to being anyone's support
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 10:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13972740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tveckling/pseuds/tveckling
Summary: The minute he walked into the room and spotted Mercutio Tybalt saw that something was off. Mercutio was sitting still on the bed, back pressed up against the wall and arms wrapped around his knees, staring into the air. He didn’t seem to notice Tybalt, even as he carefully inched closer. The empty look on Mercutio’s face was disturbing him; a pricking sense of wrongness, because this wasn’t Mercutio.





	Caring

The minute he walked into the room and spotted Mercutio Tybalt saw that something was off. Mercutio was sitting still on the bed, back pressed up against the wall and arms wrapped around his knees, staring into the air. He didn’t seem to notice Tybalt, even as he carefully inched closer. The empty look on Mercutio’s face was disturbing him; a pricking sense of wrongness, because this wasn’t Mercutio. 

Faced with such a strange scene Tybalt didn’t quite know what to do. Something told him it would be safer to just turn around and leave, but even as he thought it he knew he couldn’t just leave Mercutio in such a state. That didn’t mean he actually knew what he was supposed to do, gentleness or empathy being far from his virtues. Still, he had to try. “Mercutio?”

Slowly Mercutio’s gaze moved, those dead eyes landing on Tybalt, and a shiver went down Tybalt’s spine. Mercutio didn’t seem to see him, or else know that it was him, looking at him like he was a stranger. A cold hand took hold of his heart at the thought. Never before had Mercutio looked at him like a stranger; even at their first meeting there had been a sense of recognition, a thought of ‘oh, _you_ ’ shared between the two of them. The feeling had been animosity, curiosity, malice, affection. There had never been nothing.

Then Mercutio frowned, his eyes clearing. “Oh, Tybalt,” he said simply, with no inflection to give a sense of his feelings.

He shouldn’t be so relieved simply to hear Mercutio say his name, Tybalt thought and gritted his teeth, immediately relaxing his face as he realized what he was doing. He had gotten Mercutio’s attention, he didn’t want to seem angry, not before he knew what was wrong with his—whatever Mercutio was.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked, cursing himself as he heard the clumsy words fall out. Why couldn’t he have some more tact, just for once?

Mercutio blinked slowly, looking at him with his brow lightly furrowed for a long moment before life filled his eyes and face—but not the sort that pleased Tybalt to see. He crawled up from the bed, movements graceful but filled with restless energy that wanted to be directed at a target; he stared at Tybalt, the sneer on his face deepening with each second. “Oh, _please_. Don’t do this, Lord Tybalt. Don’t act like you _care_. It’s so beneath one such as you, this pretense.”

Tybalt wanted to flinch at the poisonous tone, but he focused on pushing down the anger always ready to erupt. Mercutio wasn’t in a good state of mind, he had seen that so clearly, so this had to be some sort of anger that simply needed a target, any target. Tybalt was familiar with that sort of anger. Still, it was hard to keep any bite from his voice. “I have never pretended anything with you.”

Mercutio laughed, harshly, studying Tybalt with a predatory look, like he was looking for a weakness. “You never do anything but pretending, my dear, dear Prince. You deceive everyone around you, day in and day out, every moment you are awake and when you are sleeping. You cover behind that mask of yours, that rage, and you use the name of your lady aunt as a shield to hide behind, even though it’s not actually yours to use. You pretend, _every day_. You are the dutiful son to parents long gone, you are the grateful and loving nephew, you are the protective cousin, the honorable man fighting for your family. But nothing of it is real, _nothing_! You do nothing but pretend.”

Tybalt gritted his teeth and let the words rain over him, watching the wildness creep into Mercutio’s eyes, the way he tensed as if preparing for a fight. “I am not pretending,” he bit out, fighting to keep each word at a normal volume.

For a moment Mercutio looked confused, uncertain, but then the sneer appeared again and he looked almost disgusted. “You are. Or do you mean to tell me your beloved, oh, so loving family knows what you’ve been up to? Do they all know you’ve been fucking the Prince’s mad nephew for years? Have you been telling them about each time we meet, everything we get up to when no one else is around? Have you really? Then, maybe next time we should just meet at the Capulet house, since they know all about this side of you. Why, maybe we’ll invite whoever’s interested to join us, wouldn’t that be a _great_ way to deepen those familial bonds?”

“Stop it!” Mercutio’s grin was more teeth than lips, and he looked ready to get bloody, but Tybalt forced himself to only grab his shoulders. He breathed in deep, pushing down the fury, but he couldn’t completely keep the growl out of his voice.

It didn’t seem to be what Mercutio wanted, however, as he simply struggled to get out of Tybalt’s grip. The sneer slipped off his face like it had never been there, and despite the way he turned away his face Tybalt could see the desperation on it clear as day. Why he was acting like he did, what he was desperate for, Tybalt had no idea, and with his attention divided on keeping Mercutio and his own fury under control he didn’t have enough of a mind to think about it.

“Stop it already! What’s wrong with you today?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing is ever _wrong_ ,” Mercutio spit out with a pretense of a cheeky grin, though it disappeared almost immediately. “Or is it the other way around? I can never remember. Everything, nothing, nothing and everything. It changes when you look around, when you ask others and see their faces change as they look at you, it changes when you look at yourself. Nothing is wrong. Everything is wrong. Every person is wrong, don’t you see?”

Tybalt sighed and cupped Mercutio’s face, stopping him in whatever tirade he was getting stuck on. Mercutio’s slack face and wide eyes was enough to bring a small smile to Tybalt’s lips, part relief that Mercutio could also do such expressions. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he admitted. “So just… stop. Okay?”

Mercutio only blinked at him, speechless for once.

“Why don’t we,” Tybalt looked around, “why don’t we lie down? Not to do anything, just to, uh, relax? That might not be such a bad idea, don’t you think?”

Mercutio was quiet for so long that Tybalt almost feared he had gone back to that dead state he had been in at the beginning, but then he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Tybalt’s shoulder. It took a while before Tybalt realized the muffled sounds were laughter, but once he did he wrestled with being relieved or being annoyed. Insulted. Should he be insulted?

“ _Yes_. Yes, let’s- let’s do that,” Mercutio finally said as he dislodged his face from Tybalt, though his hands retained their grip in his shirt.

Without asking he went back to the bed, pulling Tybalt with him, and unceremoniously dropped himself in it. Tybalt didn’t have much of a choice, either risk his shirt being torn or let Mercutio pull him in, but he did his best to avoid landing directly on Mercutio. Instead of any kind of gratitude he received a scoff, right before Mercutio pulled on him, shifting them both around on the bed until they lied in the position he wanted them: Tybalt on his back with Mercutio cuddled close. Tybalt felt at first awkward, with his arm around Mercutio, right where he had put it, but after some time he found that Mercutio’s soft breath hitting his collarbone every time he breathed out had a hypnotic quality to it. When Mercutio yawned Tybalt wasn’t far behind.


End file.
